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Mike poured water on the coffee granules and heard them sizzle as they dissolved beneath the boiling liquid. He readjusted himself inside his boxer shorts and patted over to the fridge to get the milk, yawning as he did so. How had it come to this? Early morning instant coffee sending him on his way to a day in commuter hell. Crowded trains, stuffy, disease-ridden offices, urgent deadlines and rude colleagues while all the time knowing the train ride home would be a jam packed hell. The whole day spent under leaden skies and artificial lights. Not the lights he had dreamt of when the band were so close to stardom 16 years ago. They were going to be the next big thing, a Britpop sensation, the new Supergrass. He still had copies of that first CD single, the first and last. ‘Time’ had reached number 35 in the charts and had been the Morning Show’s record of the week. Mike remembered the appearances on TV pop shows and the interviews with the countless pop magazines, the tours in the old van and the support gigs with Shed Seven; it was going to happen, they were going to hit the big time, they were that close. But then suddenly Britpop was dead and no one wanted to know ‘the Crow’s Feet’ anymore. Stung by the realisation that they were never going make it, the band broke up and went their separate ways. Mike started his slow ascent up the shallow career ladder.
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